


Vampires and Vengeance

by VOlympianlove



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Batman References, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Crime Fighting, Crimes & Criminals, Eventual Romance, Kidnapping, Light Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Murder, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25027537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VOlympianlove/pseuds/VOlympianlove
Summary: All is not as it seems. A rogue vampire wannabe is on the loose and Yifan is determined to catch him before he kills again.
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Wu Yi Fan | Kris/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 16
Kudos: 47
Collections: November Rain Fest Round 2





	Vampires and Vengeance

**Author's Note:**

> Self Prompt
> 
> Clearly I have been watching waay too much Batwoman. I kind of nicked the idea of a vampire killer from the show and then adapted it. This was supposed to be a one-shot thing where the killer is unmasked and captured but guess what? My brain decided to extend it even though I had NO time left. I hope this satisfies some Batman Yifan cravings and also some Krisho fans! Hope y'all enjoy!

“What is this?” Yifan scowled when a folder was dropped onto his work, spilling paper all over his desk.

  
He looked up to see Junmyeon grinning down at him, looking far too cheery for the hour. A tray of four coffees was set down more carefully. Despite his grouchiness, Yifan’s breath hitched when Junmyeon strolled around the desk to peek over his shoulder as he set down his pen to gather up the papers.

“It’s a new adversary. A wannabe vampire,” Junmyeon explained. Yifan was more than a little distracted watching his pale fingers reach out for the nearest coffee cup.

“A vampire?” he scoffed, regaining his senses just in time to bat Junmyeon’s hand away before he could close his hand around the cup. “Why don’t you give me something more real?”

“This one _is_ real. He’s been seducing men and women in clubs and bars and draining them dry.”

“Draining as in drinking?” Yifan wrinkled his nose, plopping the papers down in favour of taking a coffee cup himself. Junmyeon shrugged and Yifan could not help but notice the way his eyes lingered on the coffee.

“I need coffee to function,” his assistant said instead, his lips curling into a cheeky smile. Yifan scowled, successfully hiding his amusement. He pointed at the tray of four.

“You can have one.”

His heart did a backflip in his chest when Junmyeon beamed, snatching up the to-go cup and taking a sip lightning fast, as if afraid that he would change his mind.

“So, are you taking the case?” Junmyeon asked when Yifan turned back to pore over the pages on the criminal.

Yifan raised his eyebrows. He scooped up the file and rose. His den would have a lot more equipment that would better track down this masked killer.

“You want me to take this case, don’t you?” he asked and Junmyeon had the good grace to look sheepish around his next sip of coffee.

“My brother frequents one of the bars that he’s hit,” he admitted, “I’m worried he’d be a target.”

Yifan hugged the file a little closer.

If Junmyeon’s brother looked anything like him, he could have a massive target on his back. He could not imagine anyone not wanting to tap that.

Shaking himself, he held out the file.

“We have work to do. Tell your brother to keep off the streets if he can.”

As it turned out, tracking down such an obscure killer was no easy task and Yifan found himself shaking his head over the radio report the next morning.

Someone else had been found dead, drained completely of their blood with two puncture holes on their neck.

If he had any doubt before, he did not have any now, as he tossed the pancakes in the pan, listening to the newscaster try to lighten the mood with some half-hearted joke. Junmyeon was in the living space of the den, on the phone with someone. By the sounds of it, he had to be talking to his brother, arguing.

“Jongin’s a real piece of work,” Junmyeon said when he entered, shaking his head forlornly at the phone that he had thrown onto the couch.

“What’s he done this time?” Yifan asked, setting the plates of pancakes onto the coffee table.

“Suspended from school,” Junmyeon muttered, stabbing his fork into the pancake. It was very uncharacteristic of him to not have a smile on his face and Yifan found himself missing it.

“He’ll get himself into real trouble one day and I won’t be able to get him out of it.”

“Maybe he’s going through a phase,” Yifan said, “I’m sure he’ll grow out of it.” He picked up the nearby laptop, dropping it into Junmyeon’s lap.

“Work. We need to find this killer before he gets anyone else.”

Yifan shook his head when Junmyeon wrinkled his nose at him, sticking a large forkful of pancakes into his mouth before sitting up.

“There’s nothing to track. He leaves no trace behind. I’ve hacked into all the security cameras and he is just a shadow. It’s like he knows where all the cameras are and avoids them.”

The computer beeped as Junmyeon loaded up at the security footage, projecting them all onto the giant flat-screen before them.

Certainly not the use Yifan had envisioned when he had it installed but this vigilante business was growing on him. Not that he would admit it out loud to Junmyeon.

“Look.” Junmyeon pointed, both their eyes glued to the big screen as a man walked along the dark alleyway outside a crowded bar. He looked inebriated, his steps wobbly.

As he neared the security camera, a black shadow emerged from beneath the camera, headed straight for him. They heard him scream once and then the killer was dragging him away, beneath the camera’s view before vanishing.

“Almost all of the footage looks like this. He chooses the ones that are drunk enough to leave on their own and through a back alley where almost no one will see them.”

“Does he only target clubs? Or just any big social gathering?” Yifan asked, leaning forward to get a closer look at where Junmyeon had paused the video.

There was nothing to see, really, just a black figure with a hood drawn up over his head.

“They’re certain it’s a male?” he asked.

Junmyeon shrugged.

“Looks like one. On the slender side though. I can’t imagine how someone like that would be able to move a body so quickly.”

Yifan frowned at that. He squinted at the video.

The light in the alleyway was dim, but he could catch a glimpse of the tiniest sliver of light glinting off the victim’s chest.

“Wait,” he said, “roll back.”

Junmyeon did so obediently until the victim was in full view.

“Zoom in.”

The image enlarged and they could both clearly see the silver badge over the man’s left breast.

“Pull up the records of the other victims,” Yifan said quickly, watching as images of the deceased popped up onto the screen.

“They’re all policemen and women,” Junmyeon said in awe, staring at the five photographs in shock, “but why?”

“There are police at the crime scenes. Why doesn’t he just blow up the entire station if he despises the cops? Why dispatch them one by one and risk leaving tracks?”

“There must be a pattern somewhere if he’s being this meticulous. Has there been a breakout at Blackwater recently? If any of the inmates got out there might be a motive.”

Junmyeon tap tapped away on the computer and Yifan was once again blown away by the man’s genius. He could hack into almost anything but only kept to doing it for good.

Or as good as one could be while helping a vigilante.

“No, but someone died recently. Two, actually. A Mr Zhang Teng Lan and a Qiu De.” The inflexions in Junmyeon’s voice as he tried to pronounce the mandarin names made Yifan smile despite himself.

The two men’s mug shots looked as unmenacing as criminals could get. Yifan could not imagine what they could have done to be put into such a high-security prison.

“Both Chinese,” Junmyeon said, continuing to read from the display. “Put in for attempted murder during a bank robbery. They had an eight-year-old adopted son when they were arrested fifteen years ago.”

“Attempted murder?” Yifan’s eyes bugged out. The two men before him did not look like they were capable of murder. “I guess anyone could be a criminal, huh?”

“There’s more. They raided their home. There were children’s clothing in the drawers but they couldn’t find the boy.”

The tip of Junmyeon’s tongue stuck out of his mouth as he brought up the police records of the case.

“So this man who’s taking down police officers could very well be that eight-year-old boy?”

“Yes, look.”

“Zhang Jia Shuai.” Yifan stared at the photo of the young child, trying to commit his face to memory. It was hard to imagine the same chubby-faced boy committing the ghastly murders of those policemen.

He had very good reason to suspect that the vampire was trying to take down all officers that had been on the case that had left him an orphan once again as Junmyeon brought up more police records, his chattering fading away.

Yifan could not imagine the terror and anger the child must have gone through when he fled his home. He knew what it felt like to be all alone in the world.

If Junmyeon had not forced his cheery personality upon him, Yifan was sure he would be in the same shoes as Zhang Jia Shuai.

He had been lucky but that vampire wannabe?

Not so much.

“He’s going through the list.” Junmyeon’s voice filtered through his ears and Yifan shook himself, turning to look at the little map that Junmyeon had made while he drifted.

“There are eight names on the list. He’s already killed off five. Four of those five were only involved in the arrest and the rest both arrested and had shifts guarding the prison inmates. And-.” His voice trailed off.

“What is it?” Yifan asked. The blood seemed to have drained from Junmyeon’s face as he stared at the photographs displayed before him.

“That- That’s my uncle,” he stuttered, pointing at a man who looked to be in his late fifties.

“Office Kim,” Yifan read, sighing. “How many Officer Kims are there in the force?”

“Many,” Junmyeon snapped, “but this one matters to me. He’s family.”

He looked up at Yifan, determination spreading across his face.

“We have to catch this guy before he gets to my uncle.”

“We will, Junmyeon. We will,” Yifan said, resting a hand onto Junmyeon’s arm. The small frightened look at that Junmyeon shot him was enough to pump him full of determination himself. He would do anything to keep Junmyeon happy and if that meant protecting his family, he was down for it.

“I wonder why he chose blood draining,” he said absently, leaning back against his chair as Junmyeon resumed his scrolling. “Seems like a very tiresome way to kill someone.”

He smirked when Junmyeon shot him an aghast look.

“What? It seems easier to just shoot them through the chest and leave no tracks.”

“Well maybe he wanted his parents’ tormentors to suffer for what they put them through.” Junmyeon spun the computer around and Yifan’s heart leapt to his throat.

There was a man lying on the medical table and a doctor standing at his head. He appeared to be convulsing, in pain, but the cuffs around his wrists and ankles kept him from moving too far.

A blood bag hung from the edge of the table, half full with crimson and the sight was enough to make bile rise up in Yifan’s mouth.

“They’re experimenting on him,” he whispered. Junmyeon looked a bit ill, rather green in the face as the footage rolled on.

“Turns out prisoners in high-security prisons aren’t treated like people at all.”

“So he’s giving them a taste of their own medicine.”

“I want to know how he found out,” Junmyeon said derisively, clicking away from the video. He was resolutely not looking at Yifan as he began typing once more on the computer. “I had to hack through at least four firewalls to access that and I have your family’s tech.”

“He’s highly intelligent for a street rat,” Yifan commented.

“Well, we’re in luck then because there’s going to be an event at Club Brite in three days and guess who’s on the VIP invite list?”

Yifan rolled his eyes when Junmyeon pulled up a copy of the guest list.

“You’re kidding. The next target is close to thirty and he’s on the VIP invite list to a club?”

Junmyeon shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. He leaned into Yifan’s side as he typed and Yifan’s cheeks warmed.

Damnit.

Junmyeon was really going to be the death of him.

“What can I say? Cops like to drink,” his assistant said, completely oblivious to Yifan’s reaction. “And it’s his brother’s club so chances are he’s going to be there to supervise.”

“What a coincidence,” Yifan murmured, leaning his head back against the couch.

Junmyeon glanced at him and their faces were a little too close, sending Yifan’s heart into a near frenzy. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants when Junmyeon smiled and shook his head.

“Suit up, Blackwing. We have work to do.”

-

Yifan had forgotten how much he despised clubs until he entered Club Brite.

The party was in full swing when he arrived, fashionably late.

It was no trouble getting in at all, not when the bouncer’s eyes widened at the sight of him and all the cameras going off in the queue.

“Have a good time, Mr Wu.”

Yifan inclined his head, tucking his hands into his pockets as he strolled into the club, already packed with people on the dance floor.

He skirted around the edge, taking advantage of the booming bass music to speak without being heard.

“I’m in.”

“Looks like you’re going to have a good time, Mr Wu,” Junmyeon teased on the other side of the earpiece and Yifan sighed.

“Remind me again how you roped me into coming here _without_ my mask on again?”

“You can blend in as Kris Wu. A vigilante is a little harder to explain than a wealthy socialite, in my opinion.”

Junmyeon’s chuckle made Yifan’s heart lift and he even forgave him a little. Just a little.

“I’m running facial recognition on anyone you speak to so try to find that officer. We need to keep an eye on him.”

“On it.” Yifan wandered over to the bar, nodded at the bartender. She smiled and immediately poured him a shot of whisky without him asking.

Yifan raised his brows when the cold glass was pushed over to him.

“You’re good,” he said, sliding a twenty across the countertop. The girl smiled back, friendly, not flirtatious. Her pixie cut hair was ridiculously attractive with her tightly lined eyes.

“I’m good at reading people,” she replied, taking the twenty with a smile.

Yifan took a sip of his whisky, turning to face the room. He scanned every face that passed him, lifting his lips into a big fake smile when he saw the pudgy man parting the crowd towards him.

“Kris Wu!” the man exclaimed, loud over the music. His purple velvet blazer had lapels obnoxiously bedazzled and they hurt Yifan’s eyes when the light bounced off them.

“Jae Yong,” he said, finishing the rest of his glass. There was another man trailing after him, face tense and scowling, looking for all the world like he did not want to be there.

“That’s the man of the hour,” Junmyeon said in his ear, “and I don’t mean your acquaintance.”

Yifan allowed Jae Yong to hug him, awkwardly patting the man’s back before leaning back against the bar. His glass was whisked away the moment it touched the counter and he took a moment to smile at the bartender when she set another one into his hand.

“I’m so glad you’re here, man. My club’s ratings are going to shoot through the roof once the people start posting on socials!”

Jae Yong talked too loud and his voice grated on Yifan’s nerves but he had to stay put if only to keep an eye on his police officer brother.

“Say, Rose! Pour Kris a big one on the house! It’s nice to see you, Kris. Have a great night!” Jae Yong yelled. The bartender nodded, shaking her head the moment the man turned away.

“You don’t want another one,” she said, pointing to his untouched glass.

“No, I don’t,” Yifan confirmed.

“She’s hot,” Junmyeon said in his ear and Yifan blinked twice. “Rose Lee, a part-time volunteer at the animal shelter, receptionist at the Sunrise by day and bartender by night. Seems like your type.”

“Yeah, well. You don’t know my type,” Yifan muttered under his breath, turning to leave when a warm body slid up next to him.

He heard a very audible gasp on the other end of the earpiece the moment he laid eyes on the man.

Yifan had to swallow down a gasp of his own as well.

His jet black hair was artfully tousled, contrasting sharply against his fair skin. When he smiled, two dimples appeared on either side of his cheeks.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he said, heavily lined eyes seeming to stare straight into Yifan’s soul.

“Sure,” Yifan found himself saying and the stranger’s lips curled into a smirk as if he knew very well the sort of effect he had on people.

“Those are contacts,” Junmyeon piped up in his ear, “no one’s eyes are that green.”

Indeed, the stranger had the loveliest green eyes, as Yifan learned when he turned his head around to study Yifan as if he was the most interesting specimen of the night.

The bartender was watching them both with thinly veiled amusement as she mixed their drinks, shaking her head minutely as the man picked up the two cocktail glasses and handed one to Yifan.

“Thank you, Rose, darling,” the man purred and Yifan could have sworn the girl blushed.

“Thank you,” Yifan said, their fingers brushing when he took the glass. The man’s skin was oddly cold, perhaps due to the temperature of the room.

Jae Yong did like to keep his clubs on the lower end.

“Kris,” he offered and the stranger grinned again.

“Yixing, and I know who you are.”

Yixing’s voice was almost hypnotic, musical in its quality.

“Don’t lose focus, Yifan. Officer’s nearby,” Junmyeon said in his earpiece. “He’s on the other side of the bar, getting a beer.”

“So what do you do, Yixing?” Yifan said, unable to take his eyes off the slender man as he slid onto a barstool with more grace than Yifan could ever hope to have.

“Ah, I dance. Teach a little here and there to make ends meet.” Yixing’s eyes flashed and Yifan was a little disconcerted by the bitterness that he saw in the brief moment.

“Not everyone can be born with a silver spoon in their mouth you know?”

He tilted his head, watching Yifan as if to gauge his reaction. It was bait and Yifan did not rise to it, choosing to ignore the snark.

“Well you clearly work hard,” he said, raking his eyes up and down Yixing’s figure.

In his earpiece, Junmyeon made a huffing sound, as if annoyed.

“I do. If you’ll excuse me, Kris. I have a- pressing emergency. Please.” A hand curled around his wrist and Yifan froze, eyes flicking to look at Yixing in shock. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

“Of course,” Yifan replied, settling back against the counter to watch him leave in the direction of the bathroom. He made sure that the bartender was busy before speaking.

“Where’s the target?”

“Other side of the bar, drinking his beer. Looks miserable,” Junmyeon answered, sounding oddly detached. Yifan frowned.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing at the drink in his hand that he had not taken even a sip of. He made eye contact with the bartender, gesturing for her to take the drink away.

At the corner of his vision, he could see the officer, hunched over his beer, completely ignorant of the partying youngsters all around him.

Typical.

“Fine,” Junmyeon said, short and clipped. “You need to move. Keep an eye on Officer Kim.”

“Did you run facial recognition on Yixing?” Yifan asked instead, looking back in the direction where Yixing had gone. He could not see Yixing anymore, the man having blended into the background.

“Yes. His story checks out.”

“I’m sure it does,” Yifan said. He shifted, tilting his head to search for the officer.

But there was no sign of him.

Yifan frowned.

“Officer Kim’s gone,” he said, rising to his feet. “Tap the cameras.”

It was difficult navigating the crowds, but with all that noise and booze, no one noticed him as he made his way to the back door.

“Door’s open,” Junmyeon said, tense and Yifan stepped out, the cold slapping him in the face immediately. He huffed, wrapping his arms around himself. “Activating heat.”

His suit warmed and he relaxed.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Junmyeon replied tersely and Yifan could hear frantic typing on the other end. There was a beep in his ear as he strolled down the alley, reaching into his breast pocket for the box of cigarettes he kept there.

He flicked on his lighter, setting one end of the cig into his mouth in an effort to look less tense as he sped down the alleyway.

“No sign of him or our vampire friend,” he said through the stick.

“Fuck. He’s in the next alley over. You’re going to have to run!” Junmyeon cursed and Yifan obeyed, bolting. There was a click and he felt his suit shifting and changing, the nano fabric turning into his Blackwing costume.

His mask fell into place as he leapt, a grappling hook yanking him into the air.

“Or fly, that works,” Junmyeon said.

“Where is he?” Yifan growled. He hated running on roof tiles.

“Almost there. He’s hella drunk. Staggering.”

“That’s not right,” Yifan muttered as he raced along the rooftops, eyes scanning the ground. Side alleys were always dimly lit and he was not fond of night vision. “He barely drank. You said he went to the bar shortly after Yixing spoke to me. That’ll give him only enough time to drink one at most.”

“Vampire! Yifan, hurry!”

Yifan did not need to be told twice, leaping off the building to see the vampire with his fangs locked onto Officer Kim’s neck.

He flung out a knife, the vampire nimbly avoiding it. Dark eyes glared at him from beneath a black lace mask and he could see actual fangs extending from beneath the man’s top lip.

“What the fuck,” Yifan said under his breath when the man hissed at him before fleeing. He made to give chase but was stopped by Junmyeon’s voice in his ear.

“Officer’s not doing so good. He needs to get to a hospital, stat!”

-

“Well, that was terrible. Made me miss a good night too,” Yifan joked, stepping out of the shower to see Junmyeon still hunched over the laptop, tapping away.

“As if you would have brought him back here. You never bring anyone home,” Junmyeon said offhandedly. He was distracted, distant when Yifan went to sit down next to him on the couch, still shirtless. “It’ll be tomorrow before the hospital uploads his records and I can figure out what’s in his blood so you should get some sleep.”

Yifan shifted, bumping Junmyeon’s shoulder hard enough for him to look up. The wounded look in his gaze startled him.

“You wouldn’t really bring Yixing back, would you?” Junmyeon asked, dropping his head to glare at his computer screen.

“No?” Yifan said, confused. He had never seen Junmyeon act like that before.

“Good because he might compromise your identity.” Junmyeon’s tone was sharp, almost scalding. He rose from the couch, shutting his laptop. “I have to go. Jongin’s waiting up for me back home.”

“It’s one am, Junmyeon. You can stay over,” Yifan blinked at Junmyeon’s attitude. His assistant stared back at him, shaking his head.

“I need to see my brother, Yifan. I’ll come back in the morning with the hospital records. Get some sleep. Good night.”

With that, he vanished out the door.

Yifan sank back against the couch, utterly bewildered. What had gotten into Junmyeon?

He was too wound up to sleep much and was already up with breakfast cooking when the tell-tale signs of the elevator rattling made him turn.

Junmyeon came walking down the corridor, laptop in hand and a tray of four coffees in the other. He was smiling again, his bright and cheery self, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet towards the kitchen.

“Our vampire has been drugging people with ketamine,” he said around a mouthful of toast that he had nicked from Yifan’s plate before he could stop him.

“Ketamine? Where is he getting it from?” Yifan asked, turning around with his breakfast in hand. He fixed another plate for Junmyeon, secretly happy that his friend had shaken off whatever that seemed to have bothered him the night before.

Being upset never suited Junmyeon. He was just too bubbly, sunshine in a person.

“Don’t know, but I’ll figure it out,” Junmyeon said confidently.

“Can you figure it out _before_ he kills another person?” he teased, half-serious.

“Uh no. But that’s your job. You need to stop him from killing another person and lucky for you, that’s the easy part,” Junmyeon leaned back against the couch, stuffing the toast into his mouth.

He was spilling crumbs all over his keyboard as he munched, typing away. When Yifan set down the coffee tray, he reached out absently to take one, scattering more crumbs onto the couch.

“Easy part?” Yifan raised his eyebrows incredulously. “I could get shot. Or drugged. Or my blood drained if any of the above happened.”

Junmyeon looked up from his screen then, lips curved into a teasing smile.

“My job is to make sure that doesn’t happen. Also do you think it’s easy hacking so many firewalls to track down which pharmacies and doctors stock ketamine? You don’t pay me nearly enough for what I do.”

Yifan blinked.

“I don’t pay you,” he said slowly.

“ _Exactly.”_ Junmyeon tossed the rest of his toast into the air, catching it in his mouth. “I’ll figure out where the ketamine is coming from, boss. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

“So what do you want me to do in the meantime? Should I list out suspects, plan a stakeout?”

“On the contrary. You can relax. It’s our lucky week because there’s another event opening that you’re required to be present at. The Scala, seven pm on Thursday. Apparently there will be A-list actors present.”

Junmyeon flicked his fingers across the touchscreen, projecting it onto the large flat screen tv.

A long list of names appeared, along with a photo of each guest in high definition colour. The owner of the Scala was some wealthy heiress and she had apparently decided to blow big money on the event, evident by the number of names on the list Yifan recognised.

“This is invite-only. Everyone on that list had to RSVP in. I’ve never seen the invitation before?” he questioned, to which Junmyeon only shrugged.

“I RSVPed for you. SPD has been deployed for that night and in _that_ attendance list, is one of Vampy’s targets.”

“Is that what we’re calling him now?” Yifan asked, his eyebrows rising as he watched Junmyeon flicked to a photo of a middle-aged lady dressed in the Seoul Police Department uniform, carrying a heavy rifle in her hands.

“He is literally called the Vampire Killer,” Junmyeon deadpanned. He flicked on the news and sure enough, they could all hear DJ Chen’s voice announcing all about the Vampire Killer.

Yifan rolled his eyes. Honestly, he thought the news would be able to come up with something a little more creative than that. But then DJ Chen’s commentary always left something more to be desired.

He could still remember the report he had made when he had debuted as Blackwing. DJ Chen had been nothing but sceptical, almost scathing in his disbelief.

“There’s a theme by the way,” Junmyeon said, dropping a white card into his lap. “I’ve already picked out your clothes and your makeup artist will be here two hours before to help you.”

“ _Two hours?_ ” Yifan yelped, stunned. “What am I supposed to be putting on, war paint?”

The amused look Junmyeon shot him made him want to curl up into a ball and scream into a pillow. He despised make-up artists. _Especially_ the ones who liked to smoke his eyeliner out to oblivion _and_ do liner on his lower lids.

“They are taking the underwater theme very seriously,” Junmyeon said, patting his thigh. He left it sitting there, warm on Yifan’s leg as he scrolled through his computer with his other hand.

Yifan swallowed, trying not to disturb the hand as he turned to pay more attention to the news. He liked the warmth and the weight of it, almost grounding as DJ Chen brought up old reports of the Vampire Killer, more gruesome pictures of the dead bodies displayed onto the screen.

-

“Are you sure our killer will strike here? Seems like a very exclusive party,” Yifan remarked lowly under his breath as he stepped out of the car.

They had stopped right outside the hotel, on the red carpet that had been spread out in anticipation of the guests’ arrival and there were crowds of paparazzi standing around, kept back with velvet ropes.

The camera flashes made his eyes hurt as he nodded and smiled for the crowd, making his way for the ballroom just as another car pulled into his spot.

“Kris Wu.”

The voice made him stop, a grin flitting over his face before he composed himself, turning back to see a lady striding towards him, completely ignoring the flashing cameras.

Her copper hair was piled atop her head in an elaborate bun, pinned into place with various gold hairpins and her earrings matched her dress, sapphire stones that sparkled whichever way the light hit it.

Her favourite pair.

Yifan would know. He gave them to her.

“Daiyu,” he said, extending his elbow. She took it, elaborately painted nails digging into the fabric of his suit as he led her away, much to the interest of the paparazzi.

“So how much did they pay you to appear at this event?” he asked conversationally as they drifted towards the champagne table, securing two glasses for them both.

“Don’t drink too much. Be alert,” Junmyeon hissed in his ear as he handed the flute over to his friend.

“You know I can’t reveal that, dear,” Daiyu said, managing to both smile flirtatiously for the numerous cameras they knew were hidden around the ballroom and sound irritable at the same time. “The same way you can’t reveal what that earpiece in your ear does.”

She looked directly into Yifan’s eyes and winked, making sure to slide her hand along his arm as if they were having a very intimate conversation.

“Hello, little Suho.”

“Touché,” Yifan smiled, draping his arm around her waist. “How are you? I’ve missed you.”

Daiyu snorted, shaking her head. She threw back her champagne, setting the glass down before pulling one of the hairpins out of her hair and shoving it into her bag.

“No, you haven’t. You’ve been having so much fun without me. A Vampire Killer. Really?”

“I’d hardly classify that as fun, sweetheart,” Yifan said, setting down his glass as well.

“SPD positioned outside the doors. Target is the one on the left,” Junmyeon reported in. “Say hi to our friend for me.”

“Did Suho make you come? It’s not like you to agree to these get-ups,” Daiyu said, gesturing around the room at the people in ridiculously extravagant attire kissing each other’s ass.

“I’m on duty,” Yifan allowed himself a mysterious smile, enjoying the way Daiyu’s eyebrows raised.

She laid her hand over his, tilting her head up as if they were about to kiss and Yifan allowed that too, moving backwards into a shadowy corner.

People would see them and think nothing of it.

Kris was often talked about as a womanizer and Daiyu was every bit as seductive as she portrayed herself to be.

It came in handy if they had to pull a disappearing act.

“Colour me intrigued, Kris Wu. I need some fun in my life,” she murmured into his ear.

Yifan smirked, using his position to scan his surroundings. His heart nearly stopped when he saw a very familiar face standing near a cocktail table, dimpling sweetly at a pair of fawning actors

“Dancer. He was invited. More prestigious than he let on,” Junmyeon muttered into his ear.

Daiyu must have sensed the tension in his body for she pulled away, moving to conceal his face from the room.

“Spotted your target?” she asked quietly and Yifan had to shake himself.

“No. Not really. Just an acquaintance.”

Daiyu was frowning at the hesitance in his tone.

“Want me to…?”

“No! No, it’s fine. He’s wow, um. Really looking fine,” Yifan stuttered, his heart tripping in his chest when Yixing turned, their eyes locking.

Daiyu turned to look, whistling under her breath when she realised who he had his eye on.

“Him? Zhang Yixing? He’s a newbie to the industry. Only a little bit younger than you are, actually. He’s a bit of an enigma. Rose to fame after an impressive ballet performance.”

“Ballet?” Yifan blinked. “He didn’t come from money.”

“No, he didn’t. He worked for his lessons and used to volunteer at the animal shelters. I think he still does now. Lovely, sweet boy,” Rose remarked.

“Did you say Zhang?” Yifan asked, tensing. His mind flickered back to the files Junmyeon had pulled up about the Zhangs’ incarceration.

“Yes? That’s his last name.”

“Who are his parents?” Yifan asked, his mind racing. It was more of a question to Junmyeon than anyone else and it calmed him a little more to hear his assistant typing away on the other end.

“Don’t know. He was an orphan,” Daiyu frowned. “Are you okay, Yifan?”

“Pulled up his records. He’s got no parents. No siblings. In fact, I can’t trace him back past his enrolment into the Korea National University of Arts,” Junmyeon interjected hurriedly. There was more rifling on his end and then more tapping.

“No birth certificates, school records, nothing. As far as I can see, Zhang Yixing only started existing when he turned eighteen.”

“Fuck,” Yifan cursed, his eyes flicking to Daiyu, who was staring at him worriedly. “Do you think-?”

“I’m about eighty percent sure he’s our guy,” Junmyeon replied. “I should have dug deeper that first night.”

Yifan recalled Yixing’s hasty disappearance, followed so closely by the officer’s exit and cursed again. How could he have missed that?

“He’s coming over, Yifan,” Daiyu said, snapping Yifan out of his thoughts. He looked up and his heart skipped again at the sight of Yixing coming towards him.

Looks were so incredibly deceiving.

“Good evening,” Yixing greeted, the dimple in his cheek flashing. He took Daiyu’s hand, pressing a kiss against her knuckles.

“Good evening, Mr Zhang,” Daiyu murmured. Yifan was astounded to see her cheeks a little flushed from the display. Yixing’s smile widened even more as if he knew the effect he had on her before he turned those dazzling eyes onto Yifan.

His contacts were blue that night, a lovely sea colour brought out by his navy suit. The scales painted on his cheekbones sparkled in the light.

“Hello again, Kris. It’s a pleasure to see you again. I rather regret having to rush off the last time I saw you,” he said, his voice as smooth as honey. “You said you’d stay put.”

There was just the right amount of teasing in his tone to make Yifan a little hot under the collar.

“The atmosphere was stifling,” he answered, swallowing. Yixing’s eyes were so very intriguing.

“Ah. I hope you will not have to run off again tonight? I do so wish to continue our conversation,” Yixing said, the hint of a smirk curling at his lips.

“I can make no promises,” Yifan replied, “who knows, I might turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”

He was gratified to hear Yixing laugh, the sound relieving only some of the pressure in his chest at him possibly being their killer.

“I didn’t know the two of you knew each other,” Daiyu said, glancing between the both of them with interest. She had a look on her face that Yifan knew too well and he was a little scared to find out.

“We met at a club a few nights ago,” Yixing answered, “he didn’t know who I was till then.”

“I did not,” Yifan confirmed, “he told me he taught dance lessons. Not that he was a ballet superstar.”

Yixing smiled, raising his glass.

“It pays to be modest, Mr Wu.”

“I’m sure it does.”

“That sounds just like you, Yixing. To undermine your own prowess,” Daiyu commented, shaking her head. She turned towards Yifan, gesturing for a cocktail waiter. “Imagine coming from somewhere so low and be where he is now? You must take some credit, Yixing.”

Yixing shrugged, ducking his head at the praise.

“Him being an orphan would explain the missing records,” Junmyeon muttered into Yifan’s ear. “Most orphanages don’t individuate a child until they reach maturity and he might have had his name changed when he left.”

Yifan smiled, more of the pressure easing up. It had to be a coincidence.

“A toast then,” he proposed, taking the glass that Diayu handed to him, “to your success, Zhang Yixing.”

Yixing’s smile was wicked as they clinked their glasses together.

“I certainly hope to be successful tonight, Mr Wu.”

One glass led to two and then a dance, with Yixing pressed up against him. He was warm and a sight to behold as Yifan twirled him around the dance floor.

The guests clapped and cheered when he dipped him, the dancer’s flexibility allowing him to bend so low that his fingers brushed the carpet.

“Come back with me tonight,” Yifan murmured, leaning his forehead against Yixing’s. They were both panting from the exertion, having found a private little corner to catch their breaths and talk.

Yixing’s eyes fluttered when their noses brushed.

“I would be most honoured,” he murmured, closing the distance between their lips.

How they got from the hotel to Yifan’s penthouse was a blur of colour and lights and Yixing’s glowing eyes. Yifan remembered pinning Yixing up against the elevator, fingers working his dress shirt open.

He remembered his leg sliding between open thighs and Yixing falling back against the wall, moaning. The curve of the man’s neck, pale flesh just begging to be marked.

Yixing’s hand sliding under the waistband of his pants to grope at his growing bulge, the flash of his dimple when Yifan only pulled him closer and moaned.

They fell into bed in a tangle, clothes ripped off, makeup smudging. Junmyeon would kill him but Yifan had better things to worry about.

Like the gorgeous man lying in his bed just begging to be fucked.

“How do you like it?” Yixing asked, lips curved into a seductive grin. He looked like a model, completely nude amongst the satin sheets, moonlight shining off his pale skin.

Yifan crawled over to him, hungry eyes devouring every inch of skin he could. He ran his hand along Yixing’s smooth thigh, stopping just before his crotch.

“My way,” he murmured, curving his fingers around Yixing’s manhood to hear him gasp, body curving into a sinuous arch.

The night blurred away into a cacophony of Yixing’s musical moans and blinding pleasure.

-

The sound of his phone ringing jarred Yifan out of dreamland. He rolled over and groaned, the sheets pooled around his and another body.

Yifan blinked.

_Shit._

His phone rang again and he turned over just as the man in his bed stirred.

“Did you have a nice night?” Junmyeon’s voice was sharp in his ear, grating and Yifan winced. “Because if you haven’t forgotten, we have work to do? A vampire killer?”

“Yeah um, about that.” Yifan slid out of bed, heading straight for the bathroom. “Did he attack last night?”

“Nope,” Junmyeon popped the ‘p’. He heard the elevator ding and the familiar sound of the robotic female voice announcing the floors.

“Are you-.”

“I’m on my way up to your penthouse. Yixing better not still be there,” Junmyeon said and Yifan grimaced.

“Seriously?”

“He’s um, still asleep,” Yifan said, swinging the bathroom door shut. He reached for his razor, wrinkling his nose as he studied the love bites Yixing had left all over his chest and neck.

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Junmyeon said flatly and in the background, Yifan could hear the letter ‘P’ being said aloud.

“I’m sorry, but it was late and I couldn’t just kick him out.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Junmyeon?”

“I’m in your living room, Wu Yifan. You better be out in ten or I’m drinking all of these coffees myself.”

The line went dead and Yifan cursed.

“Oh, so you are capable of getting ready within ten minutes,” Junmyeon said, smirking when Yifan hurried over to him snatching up a to-go cup before he could say another word.

Yifan ignored him, more focused on swallowing as much of the life-giving liquid as he could.

“Is he still here?”

He grimaced again and Junmyeon sighed.

“Well, you need to wake him up. You can’t just leave him here in the apartment while you go to work.”

“I know that,” Yifan snapped, already reaching for the second cup of coffee.

“Kris?” The sleepy voice made them both freeze.

“Oh my god,” Junmyeon yelped, covering his eyes while Yifan tried not to combust at the sight of Yixing leaning against the doorjamb, looking like the sexiest man alive even with his hair mussed and eyes droopy from sleep.

“Hey um. My assistant is here. You might wanna um.” Yifan waved his hand vaguely in the direction of Yixing’s naked body, hating himself when Yixing’s eyes widened and a smirk curled at his lips.

  
“Well, will you look at that.”

To Junmyeon’s horror, Yixing stepped into the living room like a predator on the prowl. He seemed to have no shame whatsoever about his nudity as he stepped right into Junmyeon’s space.

“This is your assistant?” Yifan blinked when Yixing curled a finger beneath Junmyeon’s chin, tilting his head upwards like an old fashioned villain.

“Yes?”

“Have you tapped that yet? Because I will if you don’t,” Yixing purred.

“No, he has not and will not,” Junmyeon answered crossly before Yifan could say a word. “And you are very naked.”

Yixing’s smile was wicked when he glanced back at Junmyeon, sliding into the couch beside him.

“Yes, I am. Don’t you like it?”

Yifan did not know whether to feel amused or offended that Yixing had gone from flirting with him to trying to get into Junmyeon’s pants.

Either way, a tiny snake of jealousy was snaking into his chest and that was never a good sign.

“Take a shower, Yixing,” he said, reaching over to pick up a second coffee. God knows he needed it to deal with Yixing _and_ Junmyeon. “Suho has work to do. He doesn’t get paid to sit there and flirt with you.”

Junmyeon shot him a scandalised look.

“I am _not_ flirting,” he snapped, taking the third coffee from the tray to Yifan’s dismay. “Just for that, I am drinking this.”

He waved the to-go cup in the air and took a sip, picking up his laptop.

  
“Breakfast is coming in ten. If you want some of it,” he said to Yixing, who was still leering at him. “You better hop to it.”

“How nice,” Yixing crooned, rising to his feet with more grace than Yifan could ever hope to achieve. “Offering breakfast to someone you didn’t even sleep with.”

“Yeah, well, he is the sweetest person around,” Yifan grumbled, still eyeing the to-go cup in Junmyeon’s hand.

“Nice guy,” Junmyeon said when Yixing had disappeared into the master bedroom with far more hip swaying than necessary. He looked down at his laptop and tapped a few keys.

“Something doesn’t add up though.”

“Tell me about it when we’re in the office.”

Yixing ended up staying for breakfast, harassing Junmyeon while Yifan had his breakfast sandwich. There were a few times where Yifan genuinely contemplated calling security up to throw him out of the building when his comments rubbed him the wrong way.

But Junmyeon took it all in stride, shooting back stinging comments while watching the news.

“He’s sassy. I like him,” Yixing said when Yifan walked him to the door.

“Well, he doesn’t like you,” Junmyeon called from the living room and Yifan had to hide a smile at the look on Yixing’s face.

“He’s like that,” he said.

“Well if you ever feel like tapping that _and_ me, give me a call,” Yixing winked and left laughing uproariously at the disgusted sound Junmyeon made.

“I guess now I know your type,” Junmyeon said when he returned, his laptop in his hands, Yifan’s briefcase in the other. Yifan stuck out his tongue but Junmyeon only shook his head at him. “Real mature. Let’s go, child. We have a lot of work to do.”

They made it to Wu’s Corp in record time, thanks to Junmyeon’s excellent time management and ran through all the routine procedures as if they were running a legitimate company and not a cover for all of Yifan’s vigilantism.

Someone needed to pay for the bills after all and what better way than to expand on all the companies that he had inherited. He was left alone most of the time and Junmyeon could handle most of the financial things that he was _actually_ paid to do.

Yifan’s job mainly involved signing things that Junmyeon handed him to sign and attending meetings about expansion.

They had been talking about starting up some real estate firm and it was all very boring corporate stuff compared to the things he and Junmyeon got up to once they were left alone.

“So what’s the tea on Vampy?” Yifan asked, leaning against the kitchen counter of the den. The kettle was boiling and he had Junmyeon’s favourite tea bag ready to steep while his friend tap tapped away at his laptop, presumably bringing up files.

“Please don’t talk like you’re a precocious preteen,” Junmyeon grimaced, shaking his head, “you’re twenty-five, not thirteen.”

Yifan rolled his eyes, pouring the hot water over the teabag. He had made tea for Junmyeon so many times before that he did not need to ask, stirring honey into the cup before bringing it over with a scone on the side.

“I’m digging into the orphanage’s records. There’s something fishy about Zhang Yixing and I refuse to give up until I find it.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing all afternoon while I was in meetings?” Yifan asked as he watched the gear on Junmyeon’s screen spin round and round before lighting up green.

“Yes. It’s called being efficient,” Junmyeon snarked and with a sweep of his hand across the touchpad, his laptop screen was being projected onto Yifan’s TV.

“So, let’s see. Yang, Zhao, Zhang. Here it is.” Junmyeon flicked through the names as Yifan settled onto the couch next to him, setting the tea onto the coffee table.

“What if his last name isn’t even Zhang? As you said, he could have changed his name entirely.”

“It’s a start, Yifan.” Junmyeon clicked onto Zhang Jiashuai and the photo of the chubby little boy loaded up onto the screen.

“So this is our suspected killer. He has a clear motive. His parents died in Blackwater under the watch of several cops and the people dying now are cops.”

He flicked up a tiny photo of Yixing and an extremely long list.

“So facial recognition checks out Yixing’s story all the way back till six years ago when he was accepted into school. He went to college, took ballet, tap and contemporary dance. Did modelling. And he started volunteering at an animal shelter about two years ago.”

“Nothing about this looks suspicious,” Yifan commented, reading down Yixing’s extensive list of accolades. It was mildly impressive how an orphan had been able to fight tooth and nail to get to where he was as a successful dancer.

“No. Not till you break into the sealed records,” Junmyeon said soberly.

A picture flashed onto the screen and Yifan’s heart sank.

“I managed to get into the legal system and look up his name change. He kept his last name. His father’s last name, which he took when he was adopted out at the age of six.”

“So he was with them for two years,” Yifan said softly.

“Must have been an amazing two years if he’s willing to go this far to avenge them,” Junmyeon said.

He brought up the two photographs, side by side.

“Look at this.”

The child on the screen distorted and changed, moving through the years until it arrived at the current age Yixing was, twenty-four.

“Shit,” Yifan swore.

The similarity was uncanny, even with the current Yixing’s slightly slimmer chin and higher nose. Weight could be lost and noses could be fixed but there was no mistaking those startling eyes and dimples.

“That’s not all. He volunteers at an animal shelter. Guess what an animal shelter has in excess of?”

“Ketamine,” Yifan sighed, pressing a hand to his face. “Fuck.”

He could feel Junmyeon looking at him, his gaze burning.

“I’m sorry, Yifan.”

“No. No, it’s okay. I knew he was to be too good to be true anyway,” Yifan sighed, looking forlornly at the screen.

“If it matters, he was _really_ hot,” Junmyeon said gently.

“It doesn’t,” Yifan muttered, glaring at the photo. If his eyes could kill, there would already be two smoking holes through the screen. “We need to catch him in the act, somehow.”

“About that. We’re sort of running out of events. Guess we’ll have to return to clubs.” Junmyeon swiped at his screen, likely skimming through a list of events that were happening in the city for the week.

How he got that information, Yifan would never know and he did not care to ask.

“Clubs are too uncertain. We have to catch him before he kills someone else. Look harder.”

“I _am_ looking, Yifan. I’ve been digging up dirt on this guy since last night while you were _fucking_ him. Don’t tell me I’m not working hard enough because I’m working harder than you are!” Junmyeon snapped.

Yifan flinched, stunned.

Junmyeon was glaring at him, fingers clutching his laptop so tightly that his knuckles were white. He exhaled, turning his head up to glare at the ceiling for a long beat before looking back down at the screen again.

“I’ll do my best, alright? But please, just. Stay out of trouble. Yixing _is_ trouble,” Junmyeon said, his voice trembling. “And he’s after my uncle.”

He looked so small and scared that Yifan could not help but wrap his arms around him, holding him close. Feeling how quickly his heart was racing, how he was trembling in his arms made Yifan hate himself a little more.

“We’ll catch him, Myeon. I promise. I won’t rest until I do,” he murmured into Junmyeon’s ear. Junmyeon moved his laptop aside, curling his arms around Yifan’s waist to hold him tighter. “And I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Junmyeon mumbled into his shirt, face crushed into his shoulder, “it’s okay.”

Yifan ran a hand through Junmyeon’s hair when they pulled apart, curving his hand around Junmyeon’s cheek.

“I’ll work harder,” he said tenderly, “we’ll stop him before he hurts anyone else.”

Junmyeon nodded, his eyes flicking to Yifan’s lips and for a brief moment, Yifan’s heart nearly stopped. He stared back, hardly daring to breathe. Was he-?

“I’ll look. I’m sure there’s some event or something that one of the cops will be at,” Junmyeon said at last, breaking the strange tension that had been brewing between them.

Yifan pulled his hand away, suddenly all too aware that his hand had lingered for far too long. He cleared his throat.

“You can stay here tonight if you need to. Just don’t work too late,” he said, patting Junmyeon’s shoulder awkwardly.

Junmyeon tilted his head up and smiled the smile that always made Yifan’s knees go weak.

“I’ll try,” he replied, curling his hand around Yifan’s for a short moment before returning to his screen.

It seemed that the vampire was having about as much luck as they were as the next few days passed peacefully with no news of any new killings. Yifan was distracted by some new toys his weaponry department had cooked up while Junmyeon was knee-deep in his search.

He was in an amazing mood when he went down into the den on a Friday to see Junmyeon with his head buried into his computer screen.

“Stop working for a moment and look at this,” Yifan said, tugging at Junmyeon’s wrist like an excited child. He held up a box, only half realising what it looked like when Junmyeon’s eyes widened.

“What is it?” Junmyeon asked when Yifan opened the box to reveal a silver watch.

“It’s a communication device! Kyungsoo designed it to track heart rates and breathing patterns and pick up sounds of distress. If you’re ever in trouble and the watch picks it up, it’ll send a distress signal straight to me.”

“And why would I ever be in distress?” Junmyeon asked, amused. “I’m here with you all the time, surrounded by the most secure tech on the planet.”

“It’s a prototype, Myeon. You could just play along,” Yifan pouted, pushing the watch into Junmyeon’s hands.

“So you want me to test it,” Junmyeon deadpanned, clasping the watch onto his wrist all the same. “How do you plan on testing it exactly?”

Yifan held up a finger with a smirk.

The lights went out with a deafening pop and the sound of glass shattering echoed through the room.

“The hell? Yifan!” Junmyeon yelped.

He was answered by silence.

“Yifan?” Junmyeon called, his heart thumping away in his chest. He turned, squeezing his fingers into a fist. “Yifan, come on!”

Yifan smirked to himself when he heard him whispering under his breath that it was just a test over and over again.

There was a thump and Junmyeon yelped again, spinning around in his seat. Footsteps rang in the hallway and somewhere in the room, someone groaned.

“Yifan?”

Yifan felt his own watch vibrate, smiling in satisfaction when a red dot lit up on the watch face, along with the street and building names nearby.

“It works,” he said and the lights came back on.

Junmyeon whacked him so hard that he was stunned for a moment, all the breath leaving his lungs.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped.

“A test,” Yifan wheezed. “I know it works now.”

“I am going to kill you,” Junmyeon said, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“No, you won’t. Or it’ll render this thing useless.” Yifan pointed at his watch, dodging when Junmyeon threw a pillow at him.

“Be a dear and keep it on, will you? We need to test its tracker on different distances so it’ll be helpful in case you’re all the way across the city,” Yifan said, flopping down onto the couch when he was sure that Junmyeon was not about to try to cut his throat out.

“So I’m your guinea pig,” Junmyeon grumbled, shaking his head when Yifan grinned.

“Correct.”

“Well, Master. May I please return home for the night? It’s late and I would like to actually see my brother sometime this week,” Junmyeon purred and Yifan’s throat went dry.

He cleared his throat, shoving at Junmyeon’s shoulder to try and disguise just how much his words had affected him.

“It would be safer for you to stay but I know Jongin will miss you if you stay away too long,” he said, patting Junmyeon’s head condescendingly.

“Thank you,” Junmyeon grinned, shutting his laptop. He set it onto the coffee table and picked up his bag. “I’ll see you in the morning then. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Says the workaholic,” Yifan snorted, but he was smiling as he watched Junmyeon walk out of the door, “text me when you get home.”

“Will do!” Junmyeon called back, waving.

Yifan went through the motions of getting ready for bed, his mind wandering back to the way Junmyeon had purred at him. He shook his head, biting down hard on his lip.

He _should not_ be having these thoughts about his best friend.

Briefly, he entertained the idea of Junmyeon feeling the same, of them being more than just friends. Junmyeon was attractive, there was no doubt about it but there had never been any sign that he could be attracted to him or men in general.

Sighing, Yifan reached for his phone. He frowned when his screen remained dark.

Junmyeon should have gotten home by now.

Perhaps he had forgotten to text.

Yifan dialled his number, frowning as he opened his own laptop, bringing up the security camera footage of Junmyeon’s route home.

He would never tell him, but there were nights where he would tap the security cameras that were en route to Junmyeon’s home to make sure he was safe.

Being a vigilante meant that he made plenty of enemies and the last thing he wanted was for his assistant to get into trouble.

_The number you are calling is currently engaged. Please try again later._

Yifan blinked, looking down at his screen.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw Junmyeon walk into the frame of the camera outside his apartment building, looked adorable all wrapped up in his coat. He was distracted, texting on his phone.

As Yifan watched, a shadow emerged from beneath the camera’s frame. It was a man, dressed completely in black.

Junmyeon never even stood a chance, as the man clasped a hand over his mouth and bit down on his neck.

Yifan sucked in a sharp breath when his watch buzzed. He jumped, grabbing at it. A red dot flashed on the screen and he exhaled, swiping at it with shaking hands.

Junmyeon was alive and Yifan knew exactly who had him.

He pulled on his suit as quickly as he could. It was child’s play to tap Junmyeon’s phone. No matter how many locks and firewalls he might have put up, Kyungsoo’s program that was solely for Yifan’s use only was foolproof.

“I have your darling little nephew.” Yixing’s voice, distorted by a voice modulator echoed in his earpiece as he started the car. “You have an hour to get to the Han River, or he will die in your place. Do be quick. I so dislike killing pretty faces like him.”

Yifan’s hands trembled when he heard Junmyeon, his protests muffled by a gag.

There was another man on the line, asking to speak to Junmyeon. Calm, but Yifan could hear the tremor in his voice.

“Uncle! Uncle, please don’t- mmph!”

“You heard that right, Officer Kim? Come quickly or I’ll make him scream.”

The line clicked off and Yifan stepped on the gas, the watch on his wrist going crazy as Junmyeon’s heart rate picked up speed.

He parked as quickly as he could, following the red dot on his phone to an abandoned building near the Han River.

It would be foolish to go in without anyone watching his back but Yifan had no choice. He fired his grappling hook a good six feet away from the building, swinging himself up onto one of the broken balconies.

Slowly, he inched his way in.

The building was dark and dusty, as abandoned buildings were and the floors were disgusting, cracking and rotting as he navigated around the upper floor, trying to see where Junmyeon and Yixing were.

He could hear Junmyeon’s muffled cries and the creaking of a chair as if the man was putting up the fight of his life. Yifan smiled a little.

If anything, Junmyeon would not go down easily.

“Do be quiet, darling. I _really_ don’t want to cut your tongue out.” Without the voice modulator, there was no mistaking Yixing’s voice. Even dark and full of menace, it had a pleasant lilt when he purred.

Hidden in the darkness, Yifan watched him twirl a knife around in his hand before using the tip to tilt Junmyeon’s chin up towards him.

Junmyeon’s eyes widened and he fell silent with only the sound of his breathing filling the room. 

“Relax. I won’t kill you. Not if your uncle gets here in time,” Yixing cooed. He was hidden by the harsh shadows cast onto him but as he stepped closer to Junmyeon’s chair, his masked face came into view.

Slender fingers curled around the cloth stuffed into Junmyeon’s mouth and yanked. Junmyeon choked, gasping when his gag tumbled onto the floor.

“Why are you doing this?” he murmured when Yixing curved a hand around his cheek.

Yixing’s lashes fluttered and then his eyes grew distant.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said softly.

“We have time,” Junmyeon said, sounding braver than he felt.

Hidden in the shadows, Yifan shook his head. Only Junmyeon would be so curious when embroiled in danger.

“You can’t distract me,” Yixing accused but he was cracking, lured in by Junmyeon’s concern.

“I’m not trying to. I’m trying to understand,” Junmyeon replied, almost going cross eyed when Yixing waved the knife again.

“You won’t, little miss perfect. How could you when you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, to a family who loves you? When your cop uncle is part of the reason why I lost mine?” Yixing’s voice broke, pain filtering into his words. Yifan could almost taste the bitterness in his tone.

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon said softly. He meant it too. “But revenge won’t give you the catharsis you think it will.”

“No, it won’t. But at least my parents will rest in peace,” Yixing snapped, tucking his knife away. He looked broken, in the light, too thin and too pale. Yifan felt sorry for him, he truly did.

“They would want you to have a career, Yixing. A life. Not like this,” Junmyeon murmured.

Yifan could have cursed aloud. Yixing’s eyes widened at the sound of his name, his body stiffening.

“Why do you know my name?” he demanded, reaching for his knife. Junmyeon went rigid, his face going white.

“I-,” he stammered but before he could say another word, the doors slammed open. Sirens wailed in the air, red lights streaming into the room.

Yixing spun, wild-eyed. Police officers poured in through the door, guns held aloft.

“Put your weapon down or we’ll shoot,” the first one at the head of the group shouted.

It was Junmyeon’s uncle.

Yixing’s teeth bared into a snarl and he swung, the silver flat of his blade flashing in the light.

Yifan moved first, leaping from his hiding place. He twisted, a silver boomerang slicing through the air. Yixing cried out in pain, his knife clattering to the floor the same time Yifan landed beside him, his cape flared open to deflect the bullet coming straight at his back.

“Blackwing.”

Yifan ignored the man, catching Yixing’s wrist in one hand. He yanked hard, twisting it behind his back. Yixing’s eyes were wide as he stared into his face, too shocked to fight back.

“You-. Who are you?” he asked as Yifan clicked the handcuffs around his wrists.

“Someone who knows how it feels to have lost family,” Yifan responded, patting his shoulder. Yixing’s face crumpled as he was led away.

Yifan took one last glance at Junmyeon, who was watching him with worried eyes before grappling away.

It was all over the news the next morning, that A-list celebrity Zhang Yixing was the Vampire Hunter. The city rejoiced that it was safe once more, never mind that Yixing had only gone after the people who had wronged him.

Yifan could not bear to listen to the radio as DJ Chen aired out Yixing’s dirty laundry, everything from his name change to the people his parents had been. He climbed to the top of his tower with a bottle of whisky and a glass, sitting on the ledge to stare down at the cityscape.

His stomach churned at the thought of Yixing, all alone in a jail cell with no one to care for him. How many of his so-called friends would visit him now?

It made him sick just thinking about the agony Yixing had been through. How if he had just had better friends, he might have grown up different.

“Hey.” Yifan heard the footsteps before Junmyeon had spoken. He did not turn from his position, his fingers clutching at the icy glass of his cup.

“You okay?” Junmyeon asked softly, a hand touching his shoulder.

“I should be asking you that. You were the one kidnapped by a bloodsucker,” Yifan said, trying for a joke. It fell flat between them.

The silence stretched on, with only the sounds of the city bustling around them to fill the void.

“Is it strange that I mourn for him? For a man I barely know?” Yifan asked, breaking the silence.

“No. I know how you feel,” Junmyeon responded quietly. He took Yifan’s glass from him and swigged the leftover whisky, to Yifan’s surprise.

“I feel like we could have helped him.”

“We didn’t even know him,” Yifan murmured.

“But we know the system,” Junmyeon argued. “They put his parents into a place that should have been reformative. Not torturous. They should not have died there.”

“Then we fix the system. Weed out the corrupt. Install new doctors.”

“It’s not that easy. You’re influential, Yifan. But one person can’t change the world,” Junmyeon laughed, shaking his head. He patted Yifan’s shoulder. “Come on. We need to get back to work.”

Kyungsoo refined the watch that Yifan had given to Junmyeon and it made him feel a lot better knowing that he always had a way to know if he was safe.

The days dragged by slowly, Yifan burying himself into paperwork, new investments and his vigilante gig. But he never quite stopped thinking about Yixing and his words to Junmyeon.

“Blackwing.” Junmyeon’s tone was strange, stiff almost as Yifan watched the SPD take away a small-time drug dealer muttering about his daughter. “You had a message from SPD.”

“What happened?” Yifan asked the moment he returned back to his cave. Junmyeon was pacing in front of the computer, brow furrowed.

“It’s Yixing. He was- attacked in his cell. No one saw what happened. The doctors said he’s asked to see you.”

The little twist to Junmyeon’s mouth made Yifan’s heart sink.

“He’s not going to make it, is he?” he asked quietly, laying a hand onto Junmyeon’s shoulder to stop him from pacing.

Junmyeon shook his head, his shoulders trembling.

“I hacked into the security cameras. He looks bad, Yifan.”

Yifan’s jaw tightened. He did not even want to imagine what Yixing looked like before the doctors got to him. Prisoners did not have guns or knives. He doubted it was a clean scene.

“I’ll go right now.”

When Junmyeon said Yixing looked bad, he was not wrong. The dancer was hooked up to an IV and an oxygen mask, his face almost colourless. His chest was bare, wrapped in bandages seeping blood. There was a cut across his forehead and another one on his cheek still sluggishly bleeding.

“Blackwing,” he murmured once Yifan got close enough. Yifan glanced at the doctors around him, who all got the hint, vanishing out of the room until they were left alone.

“Zhang Yixing,” Yifan said. Yixing smiled wanly, his wrist flexing in the leather bands that kept him secured to the hospital bed. He lifted his oxygen mask off his face before Yifan could stop him.

“I don’t have much time, Blackwing. So listen well,” Yixing coughed, blood speckling onto the white of his bandages. His lashes fluttered as he closed them, flecks of blood dotting his lips.

“Jackson. 295-7, Udeokbilding, Yeoksam 1-dong, Gangnam-gu, Seoul. 110610” His voice was so weak that Yifan could barely make out the numbers. He blinked, opening his mouth to speak but Yixing silenced him with a look.

Yixing repeated the address, trembling with the effort to speak. He grasped Yifan’s hand when he was close enough, looking straight into his eyes at his contact lenses.

Junmyeon inhaled sharply in Yifan’s ear.

“Bring me justice,” Yixing rasped, sinking back onto the bed. He looked moments away from slipping. Yifan’s heart ached for him.

Yixing was so _young._

“Will you- hold my hand till it’s over?” Yixing sounded so small, like a child when he took another shuddering breath. He was looking at Yifan now, not at Junmyeon through his lenses.

Yifan swallowed, nodding. He slipped his gloved hand into Yixing’s pale one, watching as the dancer closed his eyes. Another breath rattled through his lungs, painful to hear.

“Thank you.”

Moments later, the heart monitor flatlined, beeping loudly. Yifan stood in the midst of the fray, doctors rushing everywhere trying to restart Yixing’s heart, his own like a stone in his chest.

He stumbled out of the facility, the cold night air burning his lungs when he inhaled shakily. His costume suddenly felt too tight, too restricting and he could not _breathe._

“Did you get it down?” Yifan asked, staring up at the sky. He felt like taking a walk, instead of grappling back.

“I did.” Junmyeon’s reply was tense, tight with emotion. “I’ll- run a search right now.”

“Don’t. Just rest,” Yifan murmured, tipping his head back. The wind ruffled his cape as he stopped in the middle of the street, the sound of his grappling gun firing too loud in his ears.

Junmyeon was sitting on the couch in the den when he returned, his face in his hands. His shoulders trembled as Yifan sat down beside him, mask in hand.

Without a word, Yifan enveloped him in his arms. He smelled like honey and cinnamon as Yifan tucked his chin over his shoulder. He ignored the sniffle, hugging him close until he could feel his heart beating against his chest.

“You should take this off,” Junmyeon murmured, sniffing hard. “It’s uncomfortable.”

“For me or for you?” Yifan asked, his lips twitching when Junmyeon huffed into him. He stroked Junmyeon’s hair gently when his friend made no move to pull away.

“Both,” Junmyeon said, huddling even closer. Yifan buried his nose into Junmyeon’s hair, cupping his cheek.

“Who do you think this Jackson is?” Junmyeon asked once they had both recovered enough that Yifan could change out of his costume.

“It’s three am. Go to bed. We can figure everything out in the morning,” Yifan said, smoothing Junmyeon’s hair away from his forehead. His heart tripped over itself when Junmyeon kissed his fingertips almost absently.

“Can I share your bed tonight?” Junmyeon asked and Yifan swore he was going to go into cardiac arrest at the big eyes he shot at him. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of- course,” he stuttered, inhaling sharply when Junmyeon laced his small hand into his, leaning against his shoulder as they walked to the bedroom.

If all his dreams were as lovely as waking up to Junmyeon curled up against his side, Yifan would never want to wake up. He did not dare to move, even as soft sunlight filtered in from the parted drapes.

Yifan’s breath caught in his chest as the light spilt over Junmyeon, who was still fast asleep under the covers. He looked so small and vulnerable like that, curled up in a foetus position. He reached over, caressing Junmyeon’s head gently.

His heart skipped a beat when Junmyeon stirred when he leaned over to press a secret kiss against his forehead. Yifan froze in place, relieved when Junmyeon only snuffled cutely, burying his face back into the covers.

He was already in the den, the computers whirring as he ran up a database and made coffee at the same time when Junmyeon came padding into the room. His hair was mussed and he had an imprint on one side of his cheek where he must have slept against Yifan’s shoulder.

“You’re up early,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. His sweater sleeves were too long for his arms, giving him absolutely adorable sweater paws that made Yifan’s heart trip.

“I thought I’d get our work started,” Yifan replied as calmly as he could. He held out the extra mug of coffee in his hand. “Here. I ordered breakfast too.”

Junmyeon took the mug with a muffled thanks, flopping down onto the couch. By the time he had made his way through that first mug, Yifan had a second mug ready and a notification on his phone that his delivery had arrived.

“Don’t you know this Jackson?” Junmyeon asked when Yifan returned with the box of steaming hot cinnamon rolls in his hands.

Yifan blinked. Junmyeon was huddled up on the couch, scrolling through the database that Yifan had started together with his coffee. He did not even look up when he set down the box with the fork.

“I may?” he said with a question mark in his answer.

Junmyeon rolled his eyes at him, stabbing at the nearest roll. He did not look away from the screen as he put the slice into his mouth.

“Yes, you do. He’s the face for Kim Cosmetics.”  
  


“Why would I know someone from the cosmetic industry?” Yifan questioned, sitting down to look at the photo Junmyeon had pulled up.

The man had dark brown hair and a very handsome face. He did look mildly familiar but Yifan never really remembered the faces he met at networking events. He had Junmyeon for that.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because your parents’ company had a small branch working for cosmetics? You really need to start paying more attention to your work, Yifan,” Junmyeon sighed.

“I do. But if it’s a small branch, that’s under you. I just deal with the big guns.” Yifan squinted at the photo. “But why would Yixing give me his name and address? Why did he even know him at all? He’s fresh-.”

“Because they slept together. A couple of times.” Junmyeon cut him off, swiping up an article that was dated a few years ago. “When he was younger. Jackson wasn’t as big back then but he was still a known name.”

“Oh. So the attack was deliberate and he thinks Jackson is the one who ordered it?”

“Smart boy,” Junmyeon said, shaking his head when Yifan feigned a punch at him.

“Why would he kill someone he slept with?” Yifan wondered as he watched Junmyeon scroll through more photos of Jackson and Yixing.

“I have no idea. But look, the address he gave.” A blinking red dot appeared on the screen, zooming in until they could see the building. “I think it’s his home address.”

“Jackson’s home address?”

“No. It’s Yixing’s.”

Fifteen minutes later, they found themselves standing in front of a nondescript door fitted with a keypad. Yifan’s hand trembled as he keyed in the code that Yixing had given him on his deathbed.

“Why would he give us his address and not tell us what we’re looking for?” he grumbled as the door swung open.

The apartment was surprisingly clean. The sink was empty and the dishes were stacked neatly on the drying rack. No shoes or stray socks on the floor.

There was a soft pattering of claws on marble and Yifan turned to see two cats huddled together, watching them.

“What the hell,” Yifan gaped the same moment Junmyeon cooed. “Are we in the wrong apartment?”

“We can’t be. The door opened for us,” Junmyeon said, taking tiny steps towards the cats. They looked young, like they might be just out of kittenhood and were very pretty cats.

“They look well-fed like someone’s been around,” Yifan said, narrowing his eyes.

“Maybe he has a housekeeper. Or a friend,” Junmyeon replied, distracted.

The white ragdoll mewled, padding closer. It bypassed Yifan completely, heading for the food bowls set beside the coffee table.

“Or he gave them enough food before he left in case he didn’t come back. He doesn’t seem like the type who would like strangers poking through his things,” Yifan commented. He looked down at the coffee table, noting the Macbook and the headphones.

  
The laptop was dead, clearly, but there was a hard disk plugged into it and a USB just sitting on the table. Yifan pocketed the memory stick, plugging in the laptop.

“Come on,” he urged when Junmyeon did not move. “We need to check the rest of the apartment.”

The cat had crawled into Junmyeon’s lap now and was meowing piteously as he petted it.

“We can’t just leave them,” Junmyeon said, cradling the ragdoll close to his chest. The other cat had padded out, hugging the coffee table as it peeked at them curiously.

“We should take them to a shelter,” Yifan said, watching the screen light up. He glanced back, his heart melting at the sight of Junmyeon cuddling with the kitten.

“The shelters are overcrowded and besides, Yixing probably got them from a shelter. It would be cruel to send them back.”

“We can deal with that later, Myeon. Crack this password while I check the rest of the apartment,” Yifan said, resolutely not looking at Junmyeon’s face as he nudged the laptop in his direction.

He felt strange walking into Yixing’s study and bedroom, inspecting every inch of it for clues.

The bed was unmade, a stark contrast to the tidy living room and kitchen. There were books stacked onto the nightstand, medical books with places marked in them. A drawer was half opened and when Yifan peeked in, it was full of balled-up socks.

He rummaged through the drawers, wincing when his knuckles hit something hard. Buried amongst the socks, was a notebook with a navy cover and a closer look at the shelves that lined Yixing’s walls showed that there were more of them.

Why would Yixing hide one but not the others?

“Yifan? I think you should see this,” Junmyeon called from the living room.

Hugging the notebook to his chest, Yifan walked out to see both cats curled up at Junmyeon’s sides. The ginger one perked up at the sight of him, nudging its head into Junmyeon’s waist.

Yifan’s breath caught when Junmyeon turned the screen towards him, a video playing. It was the same video that Junmyeon had shown him of Yixing’s parents being tortured, except zoomed in.

The footage was grainy but Yifan could just about make out the logo on the side of the blood bag hanging from the table.

“Kim Corp,” he said, a sense of dread trickling through him.

“Your biggest competitor. Who also happens to own Kim Cosmetics,” Junmyeon said with a raised brow.

“So Jackson wasn’t just a random hookup. He was looking for evidence,” Yifan said slowly. He cracked open the notebook in his hand.

There were pages upon pages of schedules, with names clearly highlighted in bold. They were the movements of the cops that he had been hunting. Yifan’s stomach dropped.

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t he just release this footage? If Kim Corp really was responsible for his parents’ deaths, the footage would be more than enough evidence.”

“Footage can be doctored, Yifan. And Kim Corp has more than enough money to fight such a slim case.”

“Surely there are more security tapes of them experimenting on prisoners than just this one.”

“There are, but none that show the logo on the blood bags. They got smart,” Junmyeon said, scrolling across the page. Videos popped up, one after another, all with a person strapped down to the table.

“Jackson must have realised that Yixing knew too much and had him killed.”

“Yes, because a scandal like this getting out would ruin Kim Corp. Considering also the fact that this is highly illegal and that they’ve been donating to human rights charities. Completely hypocritical,” Junmyeon said patiently, scratching the ginger cat gently on its head.

“Well, then we kill two birds with one stone. We expose them and get rid of my competitor,” Yifan said derisively. “There are more of these but I’m assuming they don’t contain information as sensitive as this because he had them on his bookshelf.”

He waved the notebook in the air.

Junmyeon sighed through his nose, shutting the laptop.

“We need to take them back and go through them. But these cats- they’ll be sent to a shelter-.”

“Oh for god’s sake Jun, just take them. I have the space and the money and I’m home all the time.” Yifan rolled his eyes, exasperated.

The cats were nervous in their new environment, that was for sure but Yifan had much more important things to worry about when they returned to his penthouse.

Junmyeon called his favourite salad place for lunch, muttering something about them having more than enough takeout before setting himself up in front of the tv. He was already hard at work by the time Yifan brought up the bags of cat food and litter that they had found in Yixing’s apartment.

“The hard drive’s encrypted,” he said the moment Yifan walked through the door. Yifan set the bag down with a thump, weaving around the ginger cat mewling at him.

“Can you crack it?” he asked, sitting down a good arm’s length away from the rag doll. The cat had already made itself comfortable at Junmyeon’s side, purring away.

“I can try but he’s better at this tech than I am, clearly,” Junmyeon mumbled, tapping his keys.

“Did you try the same code he gave us?” Yifan questioned, reaching for the notebooks. They had taken every single similar book they could find from Yixing’s bookshelves.

“Ah- I forgot about that,” Junmyeon said. Yifan huffed, shaking his head. He flipped open the first book, skimming Yixing’s neat handwriting.

The man was meticulous. Every book was a diary, a recording of his days since he started living on the streets. They would be a fascinating read for another time.

“Um, Yifan. I think you should see this,” Junmyeon said, turning his screen. Yifan looked up, freezing as the letters skipped across the screen.

_To anyone who’s reading this. Bring me justice. And take care of my cats, please. If you can’t, please give them to someone who can. Just not the shelter. ~ Yixing_

“He really is incredibly organized,” Junmyeon commented as he clicked away from the message, Yifan’s lips tightening.

“I don’t understand why Jackson would choose now, of all times to kill him. What did he do for Jackson to realise that he knew?”

“I don’t know but I guess we’ll find out,” Junmyeon replied.”You take the books. And I’ll do this.”

Yifan skimmed through another three books before he found something interesting.

“Here. Look. He knew what he was doing,” he said, pointing at a sentence. “He slept with Jackson knowing that he was close to Kim’s CEO.”

“You mean Minseok. The son of Kim’s CEO. They’re close in age and good friends. Minseok’s taking over the company now that his father is not in great health.”

“Wait, was he not already the CEO?” Yifan blinked. He _really_ needed to work on his memory.

“No. Yifan, really? You’ve met Minseok. He’s a big party personality. I’m not even sure he knows how to work. But he’s been taking over his father for the past two to three years while CEO Kim’s health was deteriorating.”

“Oh.” Yifan went back to his book, his mind whirling.

“And it’s not a coincidence,” Junmyeon continued. “Yixing wrote here that the experiments started some time after Minseok took over the company. I don’t know where he got his information from but it’s all backed up. There are case files and everything.”

“Case files?”

“Yes. Look, he somehow managed to dig through Blackwater’s database and find all the names of the people who were experimented on. _And_ invoices.” Junmyeon looked faintly green as he pulled up the files.

Yifan sucked in a sharp breath as he scrolled through the rather extensive list.

“That’s a lot of people. And money,” he winced when he saw one of the invoices.

“It goes against everything Kim stands for. I can’t imagine that his father would have allowed this monstrosity,” Junmyeon said, absently petting the rag doll that had fallen asleep in his lap.

“He can’t object to what he doesn’t know. Perhaps Minseok even orchestrated that accident that he got into,” Yifan commented.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions here. We can’t prove that.”

Junmyeon’s statement was revoked about two hours later when they had eaten their way through their salads and both cats were now curled up on either side of Junmyeon.

“I really wish I didn’t have to see this,” Junmyeon muttered, spinning the laptop around. Yifan looked up from jotting down notes to see time stamps and screencaps of a conversation between Minseok and Jackson.

“Jeez. He’s ruthless, isn’t he?”

“Yes. Which is why we should be careful about this. I’m calling my uncle.”

“Is that a good idea? Minseok is incredibly high profile. He could leave before the police get there.”

“Which is why _you_ need to stop him before he does. I’m tapping his phone, right now,” Junmyeon said, picking up his own laptop.

Yifan blinked.

“Wait. You have his number?”

“Yifan. We really need to talk about how little you socialize. Yes, I do. He may be your competitor but we have gone to a party or two and he may or may not have prepositioned me,” Junmyeon said the last part really softly, as if he was afraid of Yifan’s reaction.

“He did what?”

“Point is, I have his number and we can tap it. He likely already knows. If Jackson had Yixing killed on his orders, he’s likely already started destroying evidence. Or preparing to flee.”

Junmyeon glanced at his laptop screen, narrowing his eyes.

“Put on your suit, Yifan. We have to catch him before he gets away.”

Yifan bolted for the door, his mind still whirling.

“I’m trying to tap Jackson’s number too but Minseok is the one we want,” Junmyeon said into his earpiece the moment he put it on. He thanked the lord that Junmyeon had thought way ahead of him and made sure he had two suits, one in the office and one in his penthouse.

“So where am I headed?” he asked, scanning the city skyline as he swung out of the window.

“101-3, Biktoriabilding, Yeoksam 1(il)-dong, Gangnam-gu, Seoul. Putting that into your GPS right about… now. I’m taking your car.”

“Why?” Yifan blinked again, glancing down at his watch to check his position.

“I’m going to the office. It’s easier to track you from there. And I’ve sent an anonymous tip to Uncle. Those case files have been sent straight into SPD custody.”

“And how do we know that the police isn’t in on this?”

“Because I found the list of names of officers who are?” He could almost hear the eye roll in Junmyeon’s tone. “And a recording of the night CEO Kim’s car crashed. Just do your job and stop him from leaving, Yifan. I’ll handle the rest.”

Yifan swung onto a nearby building just in time to see a black car parked on the road. There were men in suits, outfitted with guns standing by. They were tapping their feet, pacing as movers shoved packed boxes into the car.

“They’re already packing. Someone must have told them. I’m going in,” he said, raising his hand.

“No, wait. How many people? And guns?”

“A lot,” Yifan answered, his eyes narrowing when he saw the man himself, Kim Minseok striding out of the building. He was visibly distressed, talking loudly on his phone as he paced. Occasionally, he would wave at the movers, as if trying to hurry them up.

“I’m going to need back up. Where’s the police?”

“Four blocks away. Wait it out. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“They’re taking too long. He’s getting in the car. I’m going.”

“Yi- Blackwing!”

Yifan leapt before Junmyeon could even finish, sending his grappling hook straight into a window.

The crash that he made from landing on the roof of the car nearly deafened him. A gun fired in his direction, bouncing off his cape and he whirled.

A knife found itself lodged into the leg of a security guard and another in the abdomen. Yifan flung his cape up to shade his eyes, grimacing at the gun flashes. He fired another grappling hook, sending two men toppling into each other.

“Go, go!” Minseok was shrieking from inside the car, panicked. The car surged forward, inertia sending Yifan sliding off the roof. He rolled, kicking out when someone approached him. The man yelled and went down onto the tarmac.

“Blackwing, be careful! Your suit isn’t made to take more than a couple bullets!” Junmyeon yelled in his ear the very same moment a gun fired point-blank into his abdomen.

Pain ballooned across his ribs. Yifan stumbled back, his vision turning white at the edges. He rolled sideways, firing his gun in the direction of the car.

There was a hissing sound and a lot of yelling as he regained enough composure to catch the man tackling him to the ground.

His knuckles collided with the man’s jaw, knocking him out cold. The car door had barely opened before pressure slammed between his shoulder blades. He whirled, gritting his teeth through the pain blooming in his back and ribs.

Minseok stood at the car, brows knitted. His hands trembled, his gun shaking as he kept it pointed at Yifan.

Yifan ducked, kicking a guard out of the way before the bullet could hit him by accident.

Silver flashed through the air and Minseok wailed. His gun clattered onto the tarmac as blood spurted from the back of his hand.

Sirens rang in the background, shrill and piercing. Yifan flung out his grappling hook, sending the wire wrapping around Minseok’s ankles. He yanked and the billionaire toppled onto the ground with a shrill shriek.

“SPD! Lower your weapons and put up your hands!”

“That’s your cue to leave,” Junmyeon said into Yifan’s ear as armed policemen swarmed the street.

Yifan backed away, grimacing at the pain in his ribs as he reached for his second hook.

He turned to leave, the hook rattling as he fired it.

Pain exploded across his back when he soared into the air. His breath was snatched right out of his lungs and he very nearly let go.

“Fuck-!” he choked.

“Blackwing!”

Yifan’s hearing went fuzzy the moment he hit the ground of the nearest roof. His back was wet and when he collapsed onto the concrete, red filtered into his vision.

“Blackwing, can you hear me?”

“I think- suit’s fucked,” he croaked, the world beginning to spin.

“I’m coming to get you. Stay awake, Yifan. Keep talking to me,” Junmyeon said. Yifan could hear the panic he tried to force down, the cranking of the elevator as he rushed out.

“Hurts-,” he gritted out, “ribs might be broken.”

“I know. I told you to wait, didn’t I?” Junmyeon chided but there’s was no real heat to his tone. Yifan grasped onto his voice like a lifeline, trying to ground himself as the world swam in and out.

“Hurry.”

“I am hurrying. But I need you to stay awake. Keep talking. I’ll be there soon. Your tracker’s still intact, thank god.”

Yifan mumbled something incoherent, pressing a hand to his ribs. He choked, bile climbing up his throat.

“Yifan?” Junmyeon had abandoned all thoughts of secrecy at that point. “Yifan, hey. I’m here, talk to me. Can you stand?”

Yifan grunted in reply, reaching out to grasp the nearest wall. He managed to drag himself painfully to his feet before collapsing again. The pain was nauseating and the sight of his own blood pooling beneath him only made it worse.

“Tried to stand,” he gasped.”

“I’m going to need you to try, Yifan. I can’t get you off the ground on my own, especially not if you’re in full gear,” Junmyeon said. His tone was patient, almost completely calm.

“Trying,” Yifan muttered, “need you here.”

“I’m here. I’m- whoa!”

Yifan toppled into Junmyeon’s arms, swearing under his breath. The blood was metallic, stinging his nostrils and his stomach turned.

“Come on now,” Junmyeon murmured into his ear. He was steady under his weight, carefully walking Yifan towards the elevator. “I’m here. You’re going to be fine.”

He must have blacked out on the way out because when he opened his eyes again, he was lying on his back, a _very_ attractive doctor in a white coat peering down at him.

“He’s awake,” the doctor proclaimed and Yifan’s hand was taken up by a small one.

“Hey.” Junmyeon’s face filled his vision and Yifan had never wanted to kiss him so much in his life. He twitched, trying to get close but was gently nudged back down.

“Easy. Easy. You broke two ribs and the bullet in your back tore through the corner of your liver. If we didn’t get you to Baekhyun here in time, you might have bled out.”

“So don’t ruin my pretty stitches, Mr Wu. I spent a lot of time putting them in,” the doctor, Baekhyun said, fixing him with a sharp look.

“Baek. Please,” Junmyeon murmured softly. Yifan heard some muffled conversation before footsteps grew softer and softer and then there was the sound of a door closing.

“How are you feeling?” Junmyeon’s hand was warm and it was so nice. He leaned down towards him and Yifan’s eyes zeroed in on his lips.

“I- like you,” he mumbled under his breath, his brain too scrambled to process his words.

He did not understand why Junmyeon’s eyes widened or why he looked so shocked. Grumbling, he hugged Junmyeon’s hand close to him, burying his face into the pillow as well as he could.

“Are you married? You’re so pretty. Your lips are pretty, can I kiss you?” he slurred, snuggling into Junmyeon’s arm. The drugs must have hit him hard because he could have sworn he heard Junmyeon make a strangled sound before there was gentle pressure on the side of his head.

“Go back to sleep, Yifan.”

It was dark when Yifan awoke again. The sheets that covered his body felt much nicer, silky and soft as he tried to push them away.

“Ow,” he gasped. Pain flashed through his ribs and back and immediately, the sleeping figure beside him stirred. His memory was blurry and cottony as he tried to remember what happened.

“Stay down,” came Junmyeon’s voice, gentle but firm. “If you tear your stitches Baekhyun will be mad at me.”

“What happened?” Yifan asked, turning to check the time. He groaned when he saw the numbers. It was far too early for him to be awake.

“Your suit cracked. Kyungsoo’s not happy about that by the way. He says he’s looking into to hopefully making it stronger,” Junmyeon said, resolutely not looking Yifan in the eye.

Yifan frowned. His ribs twinged when he raised his hand, catching Junmyeon’s chin.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft. Junmyeon’s hair was tousled, his skin gleaming in the pale moonlight streaming in from the window.

“Nothing,” Junmyeon murmured, ducking his head. Yifan did not let up. He scooted closer, wincing at the pain flaring across his back.

“Did I say something? When I was hopped up on drugs?”

“You- you don’t remember? It’s fine.” Junmyeon bit down hard on his lower lip and Yifan had never wanted to kiss him and slap him at the same time.

“I remember some of it,” he mumbled lowly, pink dusting his cheeks. It was slowly coming back to him, his comment about Junmyeon’s lips and the rest of it.

Junmyeon’s eyes were pools that he found himself drowning in.

“Did you mean it?”

In answer, Yifan leaned down and captured his lips in his. He could not help himself. Junmyeon was absolutely irresistible like that, nibbling at his lower lip like a rabbit.

He relished the surprised gasp Junmyeon emitted from his mouth, hands flying up to cup his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he breathed when they pulled apart, Junmyeon panting against him. He raised a hand to stroke his hair and yelped.

“Careful,” Junmyeon snapped at once. He nudged him until Yifan was lying back against the headboard, his back cushioned by his pillow.

“I’m fine,” Yifan insisted even as Junmyeon hovered over him, his brows furrowed in the cutest frown. “I’m okay, Myeonnie.”

He leaned up, puckering his lips and watched as Junmyeon’s frown melted away into a soft smile.

“Kiss me again?” Yifan asked hopefully. His wish was granted when Junmyeon connected their lips again, only pulling away when he made a pained sound.

“It’s late. We should go back to sleep,” he said, shifting to curl back against Yifan’s side. Yifan pouted when an arm was draped loosely over his waist and Junmyeon’s face pressed into his shoulder.

“I like being big spoon,” he complained only to be shushed at once.

“Well, you can’t move right now so let me have my moment,” Junmyeon mumbled, already half asleep. “You can be big spoon when you’ve recovered.”

-

Work did not stop just because the big bad had been arrested. Junmyeon’s uncle rounded up the corrupt officers that had been involved in Minseok’s trafficking and they would all have to stand trial.

Yifan was bedridden for several days and he had more than enough time to listen to DJ Chen butcher his name and break down the stories. It was frustrating not being able to leave the bed. But not so much when he had his boyfriend tending to his every need.

Junmyeon and him transitioned slowly into their relationship after that first night. With him being unable to leave the bed, Yifan had taken to calling up florists and chocolatiers to deliver flowers and chocolates and sometimes dinner.

“Yifan. You really need to stop.”

Yifan looked up from his book to see Junmyeon standing in the doorway of his room, clutching a bouquet of roses wrapped in purple paper.

He only grinned, watching Junmyeon shake his head, padding over to kiss him on the cheek.

“I haven’t been able to take you out on dates. Just let me use my money how I like to for a while.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to watching your accounts,” Junmyeon murmured when Yifan turned to give him a proper kiss.

“Well you can’t stop me from spoiling my boyfriend, can you? I’m the boss here,” Yifan replied, sneakily copping a feel.

Junmyeon nudged his hand away, pinning him with a glare.

“Stop lazing around and come help me. These flowers came at a good time.”

Yifan sobered up, pushing aside the covers to drag himself out of bed. His ribs barely ached now but Junmyeon had insisted.

“It seems strange to be mourning a man who was also a murderer,” he commented as the scenery around them turned from steel buildings to great wide stretches of grass filled with wildflowers.

“Maybe. But you understand him more than anyone else. Besides, who else would mourn for him?”

Yifan hummed in reply, settling back against his seat. They drove in silence, a playlist of obscure songs playing in the background.

Junmyeon found the playlist hidden in Yixing’s hard drive and thought it would be fitting to play it if only to get to know the man a little more.

Yifan had put in a request to have Yixing buried together with his parents, who were cremated. He was fairly sure that the massive donation he included helped ease the SPD’s worries about his anonymity.

It was drizzling by the time they came upon the graveyard, the sky grey and gloomy. Yifan hugged the flowers close to him, careful not to squish them too much.

Yixing’s grave was a simple headstone, marked with his name and birth date. It would have looked lonely if it were not for the two other headstones standing nearby under a copse of trees.

Yifan set down his flowers, swallowing hard when Junmyeon followed suit. He wrapped an arm around his waist as Junmyeon played the video of Yixing’s dance performance.

As strings of orchestral music filled the air, Yifan thought he felt a breeze ruffle his hair, as if someone was trying to say thank you.


End file.
